Passing Glances
by never-give-up-hope2
Summary: Sometimes it only takes one glance to know who you're going to spend the rest of your life with. (Please read and review)


It was cold in New York City. The boy trailing behind his father could not have been more than eleven years old. Shivering in his thick winter coat made him appear much younger than he was. His father's face was as cold as the wind which was blowing in their faces. He missed his wife, especially at time like this. He had no idea what to do with his young son.

The boy tried not to step on the cracks in the pavement. He thought that if he made it ten blocks without touching any cracks, his mom would come back and alleviate the awkwardness that had formed between his father and him. It was silly, stupid even. It had been three years; his mother was not coming back.

The little girl shivered in her thin coat. It was easy to tell she was not from around here, with her olive skin and thin clothes. The little girl also trailed behind her father, who was barking orders at her in Hebrew. She could not have been more than five years old. It was clear to any passer-bye that she had been trained in some way. The way she picked her feet of the ground made some resemblance to marching and the way she held her head high bore resemblance to the way Soldiers held their heads on a march.

She tripped and fell but did not cry or shout. Instead she picked herself up and carried on walking; the slight crease in her forehead the only evident sign that she was hurt. Her father did not even notice, he just kept walking, not even noticing that there was at least two strides between his daughter and him.

The boy sighed, watching his father hit on anything with a skirt. Not that he didn't but that was different; he was an eleven year old filled with testosterone who had not been married. It actually hurt him to see his father move on after his mother's death. In all truth he actually relished these moments; his father had enrolled him in boarding school the week after his mother's death and in the summer he enrolled him in summer camps that he had no interest in.

So Anthony DiNozzo Junior played his favourite game: people watching. He saw a young man in his early twenties, with an expensive suit and a more expensive briefcase. Tony guessed that this guy's apartment was all modern and no heart. Next was a middle-aged women who was pushing a stroller. He guessed that she had the comfortable lived-in kind of home and would flop down at the end of the day with her husband and have a nice catch-up. His mom used to do that with his dad, it was sweet watching them love each other.

His dad was still talking to this blonde woman -who wasn't even that hot- so Tony settled himself on the ledge of a window outside a store, watching the world. He spotted a little girl who stopped opposite him, the man in front of her talking to some person in a strange language. She stood straight, no trace of emotion or boredom on her face. He noted that she was no older than five and that she was very cute in a non-creepy sort of way. Her clothes were too thin for the northern Atlantic air and her hair was wild and brown.

The man in front of her barked her name which made her jump a little. _Ah Ziva _he thought that it was a pretty name, and that she was obviously not from around here. She looked sad and lonely for a moment, her eyes looking down at her foot which was dragging across the pavement. Tony suddenly felt something, could this strange girl possibly know the way he felt? As soon as it had come, the emotion had gone, leaving a stony look on her face. The foot which had been dragging itself in a graceful manner stopped and the girl stood almost to attention. Waiting for her father to finish, patiently.

The small girl called Ziva looked around her surroundings as she had been taught. It was a cold day and already she longed for the warmth of Tel Aviv, to feel the sun on her back. Her father had insisted she come with him though, she had to get used to travelling at a tender age. There were many people in New York. She felt like she had been walking for hours but she was not tired. Her father had been training he since she could walk and already she could swim ten lengths of a swimming pool without stopping. Her father was not satisfied and was pushing for twenty. She had just turned five.

She looked around again and noticed a boy staring at her. He wasn't looking at her as if she wasn't strange, but he looked curious, as if she was different to anyone else he'd seen before. Ziva wasn't sure if this was a strange American custom - to stare at people - so she stared back. His face was sad, she knew because she had seen his expression so many times on her own, a mixture of despair and sadness. He smiled at her and she noted that he actually had quite a nice smile, so she smiled back. It transformed her face from one of a sad little girl to a delighted one.

Tony noted that she was a really good at fake smiling, so he stuck his tongue out to see what she would do. The younger girl was startled by this strange gesture and her little smile of delight turned into a smirk of secrecy. She bent down to pick up a discarded flyer, balled it up, and threw it in his direction. It hit him in the abdomen quite hard. His head flew up in surprise and the girl looked satisfied with the result. Tony knew that the girl had aimed, and hit a bullseye.

Gathering up his shirt, he noticed that the flyer had left a little red welt, the size of a grape. Tony looked back to the girl and saw that the strange man was shouting at her in a different language than he had been before. She looked forlornly at the ground, dragging her shoe across it once more. The wind whipped up and she shivered again, causing her father to fly into another rage, though this time he shouted in English.

"What have I told you about showing emotion? You do not let people see that you are cold or tired or hot or whatever emotion it may be. You have failed me Ziva, I see I have still a lot to teach and train you to know. But do not worry, in a few weeks, you will be ready for your firearms training." He smirked a little at the last bit, but Ziva just looked at him as if she had heard it all before. When he turned his back once more, she stuck her tongue out at him in the devilish way a five year old could pull off.

Tony wanted to clap at her small rebellion. When the man had shouted at her, Tony had wanted to drag her away from him. But he knew that his heroics would not go down well with this man who could probably knock him over with his middle finger. And what was this deal with the firearms, she was _five. _

His father finally stopped talking to the blondie and turned around to face his son. "Junior, come on we're leaving!" Tony sighed and stood up, looking for the girl. Fortunately, her father grabbed her hand and started walking towards them. When they passed each other, they both smiled and kept looking back at each other until they were both out of sight.

_I'll find her one day,_ thought Tony _and when I do, I will marry her_.

_**Ncisncisncisncisncisncisncis ncis**_

Years later, on a windy day beside the Tidal basin in Washington D.C., Tony knelt down to the ground on one knee. He looked up and saw that she was looking at him in a way which gave him a sense of déjà vu. She shivered slightly as the wind picked up and smiled at Tony, her chocolate eyes saying all she would ever need to say.

With a start, Tony realised that she was the girl, the one he had only seen for five minutes on a dingy street in New York. She had been the girl that he had tried to look for but had dismissed as a childish fantasy, that it would be stupid to look for one person out of the other eight billion in the world. That her father had been the director of Mossad.

Of course he should have realised it earlier, everything was there. But his mind had never connected the dots. He stood up and gathered her into a tight hug. "I love you Ziva David, from the moment I first saw you. Don't you ever forget that." He knew now that he had just been waiting for the right person, his perfect person and that she had actually been there all along.

**Hope you guys liked this. I know the age difference between Tony and Ziva isn't accurate but I needed them to be that age, so it worked out. Please leave a review and tell me what you think. I would really appreciate it. ~ Rebecca **


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